


Happy Anniversary (I hope you burn in hell)

by RageSeptember



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 15:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/640210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RageSeptember/pseuds/RageSeptember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't celebrate anniversaries. Well, except that one time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Anniversary (I hope you burn in hell)

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's been one year since The Reichenbach Fall aired. Happy anniversary, everyone.

They don’t celebrate anniversaries; they are not that kind of couple. Jim would sneer that they’re not even a couple if the topic was ever brought up for discussion and Sebastian would refrain from saying that since they live together, work together and fuck each other senseless on a regular basis they kind of are.

But what date would they even pick, should they ever want to commiserate their continued not killing of each other? The first time they met, seven weeks after Sebastian returned in disgrace (though not in shame) from Afghanistan? They first time they kissed, two months later? The first time they fucked, approximately four minutes after they first kissed? Or maybe when Jim had Sebastian’s flat emptied of his meager possessions and sent the sniper a text to inform him that he was living with Jim now?

Sebastian ponders the question from time to time, usually when Jim is sleeping in his arms, hair damp and skin still flushed from having come moaning the sniper’s name. At moments like that Sebastian thinks that maybe it would be quite nice, to just once take Jim out to some fancy restaurant, drink too much champagne and _make love_ on a bed strewn with rose petals.

Sebastian can only too well imagine how Jim would react to such a suggestion, so he never makes it.

But when the world, contrary to ancient predictions, doesn’t end in 2012 (except that it _does_ , in every way that truly matters) and 2013 comes rolling around like it was never in doubt, Sebastian decides not to give a damn about Jim’s intense dislike for sentimentality. A fancy restaurant is obviously out of the question, but he gets a bottle of Bollinger and buys a ridiculously large bouquet of roses as red as blood.

It’s barely past eight am and the graveyard lies abandoned in the gray morning light. Sebastian throws the flowers down in front of the stone that doesn’t bear Jim’s name. “Happy anniversary, you twisted fuck.”

He drinks champagne directly from the bottle, drinks it all, though he knows well from experience that no amount of intoxicants can more than slightly dull the pain.

It’s been one year, and well, perhaps he should count his blessings, Sebastian thinks as he stumbles away from the grave. At least he has a definitive date now.


End file.
